Family
by Buffy Winchester
Summary: Dean had a wife, once.
1. Chapter 1

**_"How would you feel if I killed your family? Oh...that's right, I forgot, I did."_**

_Flames. The ceiling was on fire, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He tried anyway, climbing up on the bed and reaching up, just to watch her body disintegrate and rain down on him in the aftermath. The fire was gone, and he was covered in ashes, with nothing more to do but sink down on the bed and burst into tears. He'd failed._

Dean woke up and instinctively slid his hand under his pillow, relieved when his fingers curled around the handle of the knife he kept there. He wasn't sure why he bothered, these days. It hadn't kept their father safe. Or Jessica. Or his mom. Or his wife. Sam wasn't the only one who could have secrets. The difference was, he hadn't bothered asking Dean what made his eyes bleed months ago. Hadn't stopped to consider what it might mean. Sometimes, Dean had nightmares of his own. Yeah, he had secrets. His lips formed the word, "Sorry." And then he was out of bed, pushing the thoughts aside, getting ready for a new day.

Sam was already awake, pointing to a cup of coffee as he looked through the newspaper.

Dean mumbled something that sounded like gratitude, taking a drink. "Anything?"

Sam shook his head. "Not yet."

Dean nodded at that and sank down on the foot of the bed, trying to give himself time to wake up. If she'd been around, there wouldn't be need for a newspaper. She would just be going to bed, taking off those boots of hers that he tried to talk her out of wearing. Called her a masochist a couple of times. She had just laughed at him, but he knew somehow that she wanted the pain. Thrived on it. Sam would have loved her. Cassie would have hated her. Maybe he's a masochist too, for picking someone so different after she was gone. Trying to love anything that wasn't her. Someday, he'd let Sam psychoanalyze the hell out of his choices. When he got around to telling him.

Sam was rubbing his arm absentmindedly, where Gordon had cut it a couple of weeks earlier. "I think I found a werewolf." He turned his head to look at his brother.

"Nah." Dean shook his head. "It's not a full moon."

Sam stared at him for a couple of seconds, then turned back to the paper. "Okay."

Dean's teeth clenched. This was more of that crap about not dealing with Dad's death, wasn't it? He was sick of it already. Kind of hard to deal with the fact that you're responsible for the deaths of two people you cared about.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean responded, taking another gulp of coffee. He liked the way it burned his throat a little on the way down.

Sam folded the newspaper and set it aside. "I think we should talk about this."

Dean groaned.

"I'm serious." His brother insisted. "Dad's gone, Dean."

"Lots of people are gone, Sammy." Dean blurted. He took another drink of coffee to hide his annoyance at the way that had slipped out. Fucking vampires. They'd caused all of the memories of her to resurface.

"Like who?" Sam gave him a curious look.

"Like...Mom. And everybody else we couldn't save."

Sam looked down then, at the bandage on his arm. "You ever think we could settle down? Give this up?"

"Weren't you just saying that you wanted to make it up to Dad by keeping this going?" Dean snapped.

"What good are we if we both die without having our own families?" Sam countered.

"You hunting demons or raising cattle?" Dean taunted. "I keep tellin' you to get laid. Maybe if you listened once in awhile, you wouldn't feel like you had to help populate the planet." He'd had his own family. It didn't work out.

"Yeah, because it was such a great idea last time." Sam remarked.

Dean scowled. "You want to quit on me and go back to college?"

"No."

"Maybe you should." Dean mused. "Go back to college, call Sarah, have a litter of puppies."

"Not until the demon's gone." Sam looked exhausted. "No point until we get rid of it, or she'd die, like Jess."

Great, so it was his fault that his wife had gotten swept up in one of those little robot vacuum things? "Fuck you, Sam." He blurted.

"What did I say wrong?" Sam frowned.

"Nothing. Find us something to kill, would ya?"

"I thought we were going to take a break for a week or two, after what happened last night."

"You're the one looking for werewolves."

"To see if they're all evil." Sam looked a little embarrassed. "If vampires aren't, maybe other things aren't, and we can..."

"What?" Dean looked almost amused. "Network?" He supposed she would be angry with him for denying ever having known what he did about vampires, because of her. Killing without question. Well, he'd already figured out he was probably going to Hell, if such a place existed. She'd be in Heaven though. She'd already gone once. No reason for them not to take her back.

Sam gave him an expectant look. "Not network. Well, kind of, I guess. Think about how much we could do if we teamed up with the good ones."

Dean glanced at the floor. Been there, done that. If he hadn't been forcing himself to listen to his brother, he would have missed Sam's next statement.

"You miss her, don't you?"

Dean looked up sharply. "Who?"

Sam took a deep breath before answering. "Your wife."


	2. Chapter 2

"How the hell do you know about her?" Dean gulped. No point in denying it now.

"Oh come on." Sam retorted. "You and Dad could check up on me at college, but I couldn't keep tabs on the two of you?" He leaned back in his seat and looked a little smug, if not for the way his eyes conveyed how upset he truly was. "Besides, it was in your records after they reported you dead. Said you were married once."

Dean hadn't even thought of that possibility. Of course, Dad had known. Had been one of the witnesses to sign the paper afterward. And after she'd died, Dad had only nodded in response at Dean's request: Don't tell Sam.

"So how did you end up married to a woman named Bu-"

Dean's hands were gripping his brother's shirt, pulling him halfway out of the chair before he knew what he was doing. He scowled. "Don't, Sam. Don't say one bad thing about her, or I swear to God..."

"I wasn't going to." Sam said quietly, pulling Dean's wrists until his brother let go of him. "I only meant to let you know that I'd done my research." He smiled weakly.

Dean sat back down on the bed and stared at the worn carpeting as though it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "She was like us. A hunter. But, uh...different word for what she called herself. Slayer." He kept talking, afraid that if he stopped now, he wouldn't be able to say anything else. Might give in to the tears that he could only cry in his nightmares. "Everything I've been...I already knew, you know? That there were others. Just didn't want to say because then you'd want to know how I knew." He looked up finally. "Didn't know about Ellen or anybody like that. Nobody Dad knew."

Sam nodded, not saying anything.

"Dad lied to you about the vampires." Dean held up a hand to warn Sam not to interrupt, even though he doubted his brother would. "He did it for me, I guess. I couldn't...couldn't make myself do what she did." He bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough that it started to sting. "So we did it different."

"And she was before Cassie?" Sam asked, finally breaking his silence.

Now Dean nodded and didn't speak.

"You loved her?"

Dean looked up at Sam, his gaze cold and piercing. "No." He said sarcastically. "We just fucked a lot. What do you think, Sam?"

"Yeah." Sam replied quietly. "You loved her. But then, Cassie..."

"Wasn't her." Dean laughed mirthlessly. "Wasn't anything like her."

"Was it the demon?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Jesus christ, Sam. No, she got hit by a goddamn shopping cart." He snorted. "Quit asking me stupid questions."

Sam was silent for a few minutes, regarding Dean with a look of resentment. "Why didn't you tell me about her?"

"Nothing to tell." Dean lied.

Sam glared. "That's bullshit, Dean!" He yelled. "You loved her enough to marry her, and you lost her because of the demon. How can you talk like that about her?"

"Because she's gone!" Dean yelled back. "She's gone, and Dad's gone, and Mom, and Jessica. You got all that? They're not coming back, kiddo. What the fuck is the point in dwelling on people that aren't around?" He stood up. "And you're a fucking hypocrite anyway. I don't remember getting any phone calls or letters about Jessica, so you can shove your holier-than-thou shit right up your ass."

Sam looked away.


	3. Chapter 3

The only sound in the room was coming from the heater attached to the wall. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, and Sam cringed when Dean turned suddenly and kicked it.

"Goddamn! Fuck!" Dean snapped. "I hate that noise!"

"Yeah." Sam mumbled. "Take it out on the defenseless heater, even though the only real problem here is you."

"Shut up, Sammy."

Sam leaned back in his seat and twisted around to face his brother. "I'll tell you anything you want to know about Jessica." He pleaded.

Dean shook his head and sat back down.

"I'll stop making fun of your music."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I'll let you put Nair in my shampoo." Sam blurted.

Dean glanced up and started to laugh. "It's no fun if I have permission, asswipe."

Sam smiled back. So that's what it took. Humor. "Asswipe?" He shook his head. "Come on, Dean. I know you can do better than that. What happened to calling everything and everybody a bitch?"

"You're still a bitch." Dean said nonchalantly. "You're just an asswipe, too. Bitchwipe." He blurted, then looked down at the floor. Buffy would have loved that. God, he missed her. He took a deep breath. "Okay, find us something. I gotta piss." He got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Sam glanced at the computer. He didn't want to hunt. He wanted to talk. In a way, getting Dean to open up was going to be like going after a demon. It was too bad that this couldn't be solved with silver bullets or holy water.

In the bathroom, Dean leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He just needed a minute. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist. He'd trained himself over the years to push back whatever emotions were going to get in the way, and the harder stuff to deal with took a little longer, but he was a pro. He took another deep breath and eyed his watch. Thirty-three seconds, and then he'd be back to normal. He could use ten to mourn her, if he wanted. But Sam would hear if he cried or spoke. He closed his eyes, counting the time even as his lips moved in silent prayer. "Please God, if you're around, just tell her I miss her or something." His eyes flicked open, and then he shut them again. "Thanks." He mouthed. He could have manners when he wanted to. With fifteen seconds to go, Dean wondered if there really was a higher power out there. Not the powers that his wife had mentioned. Something bigger than that. There was always something bigger. Thinking of that, he wondered what was bigger than God. The line had to stop somewhere, didn't it? Nine seconds left. Dean flushed the toilet he hadn't even needed and scowled. This was Sam's fault for mentioning her. He could have just kept his usual routine of apologizing to the woman that wasn't there anymore, then going on about his day, but Sam knew she had existed once. Damn him.

Sam heard the toilet flush and hurriedly typed 'wendigo', then pressed the enter key to start searching.

Dean walked out of the bathroom and glanced over Sam's shoulder. "Any luck?"

"Figured I'd try one last thing." Sam shrugged. "So far though, there's nothing."

Dean laid down and folded his hands behind his head. "Sorry I yelled at ya, Sammy."

Sam glanced over at his brother. "I guess I deserved it. You were right, I don't really talk about Jessica. It's just.." His cleared his throat. "I really loved her, Dean. I think you would have liked her, too. I should've called you or something so you could get to know her."

Dean frowned and sat up. "I should have told you about Buffy. So I guess we're even."

"What did she look like?" Sam asked. "I never got to see her."

Dean's breath caught in his throat. He leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed his jeans from the floor, then pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flipped it open. Wordlessly, he held a picture out to Sam.

Sam took the small rectangle and looked down at it. His brother and the sister-in-law he'd never met were staring back at him from the photograph, grinning. It looked like it had come from one of those photo booths located in every mall in the country. When he glanced up and handed the picture back to Dean, he was surprised to see his brother blinking furiously with a sad smile on his face. "Dean?"

"Forgot I had it until you asked me." He mumbled. "She made me do it. I hate those things." He laughed a little and stared down at the picture. "Her sister was excited to be back in the country, and she begged Buffy to take her to the mall. Kinda reminded me of you, the way you always used to bug me and Dad." He ducked his head to hide his face from Sam. "I miss her." He muttered. "Every damn day of my life." He paused. "It's not fair, you know? She knew what we did. I didn't have to hide it from her. She loved me back. I know that. I think she's the only woman that ever did." He tucked the picture back into his wallet. "And she's dead now, but she loved me. And you got creepy guys like Neil bringing back women that never gave a shit about them."

Sam stared. "You can't bring her back from the dead."

"No. The fucking demon saw to that. Turned her into a pile of ashes." Dean muttered, glancing up at Sam. "Oh, relax. I'm not stupid, all right? I wouldn't do that." He frowned. "Besides, we already talked about something like that, and she told me not to."

"What?" Sam looked shocked. "Why would that ever come up in conversation?"

"Because." Dean looked his brother in the eye. "She already came back from the dead once and didn't want to do it again."

"You mean, like how you did? With the defibrillators?"

"No, I mean one of her friends resurrected her and fucked it up so she had to dig her way out of her own grave." Dean's jaw clenched. He hadn't met Willow or Xander, but it was for the best. He wanted to shake them. Sure, he'd thank them afterward, because if the witch hadn't brought her friend back, he would have never known Buffy...but the experience still bothered her a couple of years later, and that was unforgivable. He relaxed a little when he saw Sam with an expression similar to his. The kid hadn't even met her, and thought of her as family anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Come on, just play with me." Buffy coaxed, meeting his eyes in the mirror as she took out her earrings._

_"Sweetheart, you don't want to say that to me." Dean laughed._

_"Oh god. You're such a perv. I didn't mean it that way. Seriously, if you could be anywhere but here, where would you go and who would you be with?"_

_"Hmm." Dean leaned back against the headboard and pretended like he really had to think about it. "I'd go into the future." He mused. "About two minutes from now. With you."_

_"Why would you want to do that?" She pouted. "You're not playing right. You're supposed to say a place and a person and what you'd be doing."_

_"Well, I'd either be getting slapped or kissed."_

_Buffy set her hairbrush down on the dresser and turned toward him, folding her arms across her chest. "And why exactly would those be the options? What are you going to do?"_

_Dean bit his lip as he got up from the bed and walked toward her._

_"Are you going to answer me?" She frowned. "What are you - oh." Her eyes widened as Dean got to one knee in front of her._

_He opened the box and nearly dropped it on the floor. "Son of a bitch." He muttered, catching it and turning it toward her. He looked up at her and licked his lips nervously. "I kinda wanted it to go differently, but that just ruined it, so...you wanna get married?"_

_"Dean." Buffy stared down at him._

_His eyebrow rose after a few seconds of her not saying anything else. "I've never done this before, but I think I'm supposed to get a yes or a no."_

_"Yes." Buffy held her hand out. "And you didn't ruin anything." She grinned._

_"Good." Dean blurted, sliding the ring onto her finger. "I'm not so good at this kind of stuff."_

_"Liar." She smirked at him. "You're perfect at it."_

_He stood up and put his arms around her. "So, you're not going to slap me, are you?"_

_"Mmm. Nope."_

_Dean laughed. "Can I get a kiss, then?"_

_Buffy's eyes sparkled. "No."_

_He froze and looked confused. "Why not?"_

_"Because I'd rather give you more than one." She teased. "Moron."_

_Dean laughed and kissed her. "Is that any way to talk to the man you're gonna marry?"_

_"My proposal story's going to have 'son of a bitch' in it." Buffy giggled. "I think you earned at least one mocking nickname."_

_"I can make it up to you." Dean whispered, leaning toward her._

_Buffy's eyes closed and she tilted her head back. "Okay." She murmured._

_"Great." Dean grinned and started walking toward the bedroom door._

_"Where are you going?" Buffy blurted._

_"The store. I want some cookies." He giggled and ducked out of the way when her hairbrush went sailing across the room, even though he knew she hadn't actually been aiming at him._

"Where did you meet her?" Sam asked.

"Huh?" Dean looked up at his brother. "Uh, some little town in Florida."

His brother eyed him skeptically. "What little town?"

Dean wiped his hand over his mouth and mumbled.

"What?" Sam shook his head. "I hate it when you do that. Just say it."

"Orlando." Dean smiled wryly. "Okay? I went to friggin' Disney World. Are you happy now?"

Sam's mouth dropped open and he started laughing. "That's great, Dean. Did you get your picture taken with Mickey Mouse?"

"Shut up." Dean rolled his eyes. "Place is haunted."

"By who, the ghost of Christmas past?" Sam snorted.

"Anyway...she was there with this guy, kinda babysitting him, even though he was only a few years younger than her." He smiled. "So there I was with the walkman I'd just converted - she loved that, by the way." He glared at Sam pointedly before he continued. "And I'm walking right past her when the thing starts beeping so loud, I screamed and dropped it. What?"

"You screamed like a girl, didn't you?" Sam grinned. "That's great." He chuckled.

"No, I did not scream like a girl, Samantha. You wanna hear this or not?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"So, she turned around, and I swear to God, Sammy." Dean's eyes were slightly unfocused, like he was watching the scene play out in front of him. "I think time stopped. Just for a second or somethin', you know? It did. It turned out that she had a bloodstain on the back of her shirt. Demon blood. I'm gettin' ahead of myself, though. So yeah, time stopped and then she picked it up and kinda gave it a weird look when she realized I didn't have a tape in there." He grinned. "Think I fell in love with her right then." He shook his head a little. "Uh, how did you meet Jess?"

Sam was startled by the quick change in subject. "She was in my orientation group when I got to Stanford. I knew I liked her when she started correcting the guy giving us the tour."

Dean smirked.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Go on."

"That was basically it. I asked her out, we started dating."

"Dude. At least my story was interesting."

"But you didn't finish." Sam frowned. "How did you two end up together?"

Dean shook his head. "I'm gettin' kinda sick of this heart-to-heart shit."

Sam sighed. "Fine, don't talk about her." He muttered.

"Reverse psychology?" Dean snorted. "Nice try. You don't get it. She was mine, all right? You had college, Dad had Ellen and her band of mullet misfits, and I had Buffy. So why don't you leave it the fuck alone?"


	5. Chapter 5

_The trick was knowing how to blend in with the other after-hours employees, and staying far enough away from them that they didn't ask questions. One thing he didn't count on was that she would be among them. His eyes widened and he ducked his head, focusing on picking up the trash, until he reconsidered and looked back up at her. "You're not supposed to be here." He said quietly. Of course, it was a wild guess._

_Buffy looked startled. "How do you know?" She asked nervously, glancing around._

_Dean shook his head and smiled. "Hoping to swipe some souvenirs?"_

_"No."_

_"What are you doing here, then?" He eyed her. "You're not dressed for trash detail."_

_Buffy put one hand on her hip. "Maybe my parole officer decided I needed to do some community service."_

_Dean laughed. "Sweetheart, you wouldn't get in trouble if you shot a man in Reno to watch him die. Not when you look like that."_

_Buffy frowned. "Okay..." Telling the truth was going to be enjoyable. He would freak out and leave her alone once he decided she was insane, and then she could do her job and get out of here. "I heard this place was haunted, and it's not my usual kind of case, but I needed a break from all the weirdo demons I've been coming in contact with lately." She turned her back and started picking up trash, in case anyone wondered why the two of them weren't working._

_Dean looked around nervously and licked his lips before he walked toward her and whispered in her ear. "Do you always blurt it out like that to complete strangers?"_

_"When I want them to leave me alone, I do." She turned her head to look at him. "And since you're not running in the other direction, I can only assume one thing."_

_"Maybe I'm dangerous." Dean smirked, keeping his voice low. "You think I would care if you had just escaped from some asylum if I had plans for you myself?"_

_"I've had my back to you for a couple of minutes now." Buffy retorted. "If you wanted me dead, you're slacking."_

_"I didn't say a word about wanting to kill you." He mumbled._

_She turned to face him, blushing. "You don't even know me."_

_"That doesn't make much of a difference to me." He shrugged. "Not usually, anyway."_

_"And if this is how you pick up women, I can only imagine the type that fall for your routine." Buffy muttered, walking away._

_Dean followed behind her, picking up a few things along the way, just to keep up the charade that he was working. "Being honest isn't a routine."_

_"No, but that whole tall, dark, and deadly thing is."_

_He frowned at her. "Okay, humor me for a second. What if I wanted to do whatever I thought was necessary to get your attention? What would it take?"_

_"How do you know I'm not with somebody?"_

_"Like who, that guy you were with earlier today?" Dean snorted. "And you don't think I'd be a better choice? Besides, I don't see a ring on your finger."_

_"I'm not with Andrew!" Buffy hissed. "That's gross."_

_He smiled lazily at her. "So? What would it take? Flowers and a box of candy, right?"_

_She rolled her eyes as she looked up at him. "You could maybe start by asking me what my name is before you get visions in your head of white picket fences and a dog named Spot."_

_He leaned toward her. "What's your name?"_

_"Buffy. What's yours?"_

_"Dean." He paused. "And I would never name a dog Spot."_

_"What would you name it, then?" She blurted, smiling._

_"Something cooler than that. Tougher. Like Bullet."_

_"Bullet?" Buffy snickered at him. "I hate guns. It's not going to work out between us. Sorry." She bit her lip to hide her smile as she started walking away._

_Dean hurried to catch up to her. "So, I guess this is a bad time to tell you my last name's Winchester?"_

They were an hour away from the roadhouse when Dean's cell phone beeped. His first thought was, 'Dad', but then he remembered that John was gone. He had burned his father's corpse himself, with Sam standing there watching him as though he had lost his mind.  
He glanced in the rearview mirror to look for cars behind him, then snorted. Nobody in their right minds would be on some back country road at two o'clock in the morning.  
Maybe he had. He pulled over to the shoulder of the road anyway, and flipped the phone open to read the text message.

**Dawn 911 Cleveland**

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced over at Sam. "We're not going to the roadhouse." He mumbled, pulling a u-turn and driving in the other direction.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

Dean put his foot down on the gas pedal. He tossed his cell phone at Sam. "Cleveland. Call that number back. Ask for Dawn, tell her you're my geek ass brother, and that we're on our way."

When they pulled up in front of the all-too-familiar two story house, Dean's jaw clenched. His sister-in-law (former) unfolded herself from the front porch steps and walked toward the car as he got out. Dawn smiled at him. "I'm glad you're here. I wasn't sure you'd show."

"You're the one that said it was an emergency." Dean shrugged.

Sam watched the exchange in silence. His brother seemed nonchalant, but only one thing could make Dean drive like a maniac: a family member in trouble.

"Well, I sort of lied." Dawn admitted. "But hey, since you're here, you should come in." She grabbed his hand when he would have protested, and practically dragged him into the house.

Sam followed them, grinning.

Dawn pushed the door shut behind Sam and stepped around him, moving back toward Dean like she was afraid he'd turn and run from her.

"Dawn!" Dean snapped. "What the hell's going on? Five words or less." Even as he said it, a corner of his mouth curved up slightly. Every second of the day, he was reminded of his wife. When he said things that seemed like they came from her, he felt closer to her somehow. And then when he remembered, 'oh yeah, she's gone'...he felt colder.

Dawn's smile got bigger and she squealed. "Buffy's home!" She stopped and counted on her fingers quickly. "You're an ass."

Sam couldn't help smiling at the woman's antics, even as her words registered.

"Buffy's-" Dean shook his head. "No. She was a pile of ashes." He glared. "Don't fuck with me like this." His voice rose. "I'm trying to move on!"

"I'm not fucking with you." Dawn retorted. "Go look in the kitchen."

Dean stared at Dawn for a couple of seconds, then turned and strode into the kitchen. His gaze shifted from the left to the right, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw her there at the table. "How are you here?"

Buffy got up and walked toward him. "Come sit with me." She held a hand out to him.

Dean folded his arms across his chest and shook his head at her. "I don't even know if you're you. You could be anything else, and maybe you tricked Dawn, but I'm not buying it."

"Go get whatever you need." Buffy murmured. "I'll be right here." She studied his face. "I missed you."

Dean glared at her as he turned and went back to the car. He opened the trunk and started gathering things. Holy water, rock salt, a crucifix. He thought for a second, then picked up the book of Latin prayers.

Sam and Dawn stood on the porch like sentries when he walked back up to the front door. His brother frowned. "What are you doing, Dean?"

"I've gotta be sure." Dean muttered, gulping. He pushed the door open and went back into the kitchen, setting everything on the table.

Buffy eyed the pile of supplies with an almost amused look. "I'm not going to like being shot by the rock salt, but you can make it up to me later. And you'd better."

"Shut up." Dean snapped. His hands shook as he opened the bottle of holy water.

Buffy held her hand out over the sink. "Come on. Let's just get this over with."

Dean poured some of the water from the bottle over her hand. It ran off and went down the drain. His eyes widened as he turned his head to look at her.

Buffy looked exasperated. "Want me to get the-"

Dean set the bottle on the counter and pulled her into his arms. "God. I'm sorry." He murmured. "It's you. I know it. I was freaked. Can ya blame me? What are you doing here?"

Buffy giggled and stood up on her toes to kiss him gently. "Come sit down with me and I'll tell you everything."

Dean pulled a chair out for her at the table, then sat beside her, gripping her hands in his. "Sam!" He yelled, not taking his eyes from Buffy's. "Get our stuff outta the car. We're stayin' here."

"The demon didn't kill me. I don't think it knew what to do with me, since I'm a slayer." Buffy mused. "All the ashes it leaves behind - they're like, leftovers. Not from the women being burned alive. It's just a sort of side-effect." She paused, trying to gather her thoughts. This wasn't the time for her to babble, the way she usually did. "He takes them...us...to another dimension. Doesn't have to torture us. Separation's enough. We only get to sit there and watch life go on around us until it's enough to make us break."

"There've been other women taken since you." Dean interjected. "Did you see them?"

"I couldn't get to them. Remember me telling you about the Initiative and all the glass cages? It was like that. Worse, but similar. I don't know why it took me. They were all mothers. I wasn't."

"I loved you."

Buffy's eyebrow rose.

"Love you." Dean corrected himself. "It was enough to piss that thing off."

"Maybe because I'm a slayer, it didn't want us to have a chance to have a kid." Buffy guessed. "But I got out. I freed who I could. There weren't many left."

Dean pushed his chair back and tugged on her hands. "C'mere."

She smiled and sat down in his lap. "I don't know how we're going to explain this to people. I saw you shoot that shapeshifter. Looks like we're not going to be able to vote or anything. Pay taxes." She smiled.

"Willow can still hack into stuff, right?" Dean asked. "We'll get her to help us out."

"You want to pay taxes?" Buffy grinned.

"Nah." Dean put his arms around her and stood up. "Where the hell's your room?"

"Same place it's always been." Buffy told him.

"I think we're long overdue for a kid, don't you?" He murmured.


End file.
